


Happy Valentine

by katsudonfemmefatale



Series: 30 Day NSFW Challenge (Victuuri) [13]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 30 Day NSFW Challenge, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Non-Graphic Smut, POV Multiple, Smut, Sweet, Sweet/Hot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Victor, Top Victor Nikiforov, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, White Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9793850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsudonfemmefatale/pseuds/katsudonfemmefatale
Summary: Yuuri has forgotten a particular day he's never had caused to celebrate... but his fiancé certainly hasn't.





	1. Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for anybody I've let down in the past week with the pause in this challenge. I've had some tough personal stuff going on and ZERO inspiration to write. It's two days' past Valentine's now, but please enjoy some tooth-rotting fluff (and smut ;))
> 
> As always, thanks for the support and don't be afraid to follow/chat to me over on my tumblr <3 (http://katsudonfemmefatale.tumblr.com)
> 
> This is "sweet and passionate" for the 30 Day NSFW Challenge (even tho it's probably gonna end up taking me 3 months!!)
> 
> SURPRISE: I've got an idea in my head I can't shake so it WILL have a second part EVENTUALLY

He’s beaming all the way home.

Yuuri doesn’t know why. They walk, as usual, from the rink back to their flat, languidly, simply enjoying each other’s company. Except today, there’s something different. Viktor just can’t seem to stop smiling.

He was fine all day. He was fine during practice, he was fine during their leisurely lunch at a local cafe ( _despite going off to make a lengthy phone call, to wish Christophe a happy birthday, he said_ ), but all the way home he had been particularly quiet, just a wide smile across his face. And is that a spring in his step Yuuri detects? Their hands swing just slightly, entwined together, and Yuuri is sure Viktor is bouncing.

“What’s gotten into you?”

Viktor looks down at him, wide-eyed.

“Nothing! I’m just happy!”

And there’s that million-dollar smile. The one he flashes at the media, the one he gave when he tried Hiroko’s katsudon for the first time, the one Yuuri had greeting him after the Grand Prix. Something has _definitely_ affected Viktor. But he’s said it’s nothing, so Yuuri won’t press it. The thought of his phone call with Chris flashes briefly through his head. Maybe something was happening there. Maybe Chris had finally settled down and gotten engaged or something. But why wouldn’t Viktor tell Yuuri that?

Before he had even realised it, Viktor was half-pulling them up the stairs to the flat.  
He turned the key in the door, then turned to Yuuri swiftly, startling him. There were those wide eyes again, sparkling with excitement and anticipation.

“Close your eyes!” Viktor said, a little louder than Yuuri was sure he had intended.

“What? Why?” Yuuri questioned, anxiety creeping up in him. The only time he had ever been asked to close his eyes before entering a room was before a surprise party his parents had thrown for him when he was younger, which he hated. Yuuri didn’t deal well with parties (the GP banquet of two years’ ago now had made that abundantly clear), or _people_ in general, to be honest. And anyway, why would Viktor be throwing him a party??

“Trust me, Yuuri”, Viktor said, taking his hands gently, his eyes softening.

And Yuuri did. So despite his nerves, he closed his eyes as he heard Viktor open the door. Strong hands pulled him inside, then moved and settled themselves on his shoulders. Viktor was behind him now, and a shiver shot down Yuuri’s spine as his lips ghosted the shell of Yuuri’s ear, his breath dancing across the lobe as he whispered…

“Open.”

Yuuri complied.

“ _Happy Valentine’s Day._ ”

It would be difficult to describe what the flat looked like right now.

Little had changed about what was - formally - Viktor’s home since Yuuri had moved to St Petersburg. The decor clean, all pale blues and whites (reminiscent of ice), but done is such a way that it also felt warm and welcoming. It was worlds away from Yuuri’s old childhood home, worlds away even from his tiny shared flat in Detroit, but he was in love with it instantly.  
Viktor had fussed, wanting to make it Yuuri’s as well as his, asking what he wanted to change, what he could do to make him feel more at home, wanting to make everything _ours._ But Yuuri loved it… _exactly_ how it was.

But Yuuri could see no hint of blue here. The white was washed out.  
All around, was a _sea_ of red roses.  
  
They were everywhere.  
Bouquets filling every foot of space: over the coffee table, the side tables, the TV unit, the windowsills, the kitchen counters. And where there were no flowers, there were other Romantic gestures: chocolates and heart-shaped pillows and even small teddy bears.

“ _Viktor…_ ” Yuuri began, but found he could not finish the sentence.

 _Valentine’s Day_ , of **course.** They had both been so busy recently that Yuuri had _forgotten_ Valentine’s Day! _That’s_ why his fiancé had been smiling all the way home. _That’s_ why he was so happy, so excited.

Yuuri was touched, love overflowing from every pore of his body for this man… this _ridiculous_ man. This cheesy, romantic _sap_ of a man… 

Viktor was in front of him now, clutching his hands once again in the same way he had in front of the Cathedral in Barcelona but a couple of months ago. He was blushing now, his eyes down at the hands he grasped in front of him, and his lids were filling with tears. 

“I love you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri continued staring into Viktor’s eyes as his remained fixed on their hands, and tears began to cling to his own lashes.  
They had done this before, right? They had said they loved each other? At least Yuuri thought he had. He _knew_ he said it at least a million times in his head… but when he tried to think of the words physically escaping from his mouth and making their way to his fiancé, he drew a blank.  
Oh God, they _hadn’t_.  
Despite everything they had been through, despite the _sort-of_ engagement, despite their living together, their sharing a bed, their student and coach relationship… they had never done the one thing they should have.  
Yuuri was mortified. What must Viktor be thinking right now?! Was Viktor aware of it all this time? Had he been waiting? Had he been so determined to meet Yuuri where _he_ was that he had felt it all this time and thought Yuuri hadn’t, waiting for him to say it first?!  
Because Yuuri loved him… he loved him _so much_ his heart ached. 

Yuuri brushed the hair away from Viktor’s face, the same way he had done during a less pleasant conversation two months’ previously, but this time he wasn’t batted away. Both of them were crying, and Viktor still looking down, but Yuuri needed to see him. He needed to stare straight into those beautiful blue eyes and for Viktor to actually _see_ what he was about to say. To hear it with his ears, to see it in his eyes, to feel it to his core.  
Yuuri tilted Viktor’s head up by his chin, and their eyes finally met. 

“ _Viktor…_ I love you too. More than you could ever believe. I’ve loved you for twelve years, and I love you more every day.” 

There was a quiver of the Russian’s lip, but before Yuuri could even fully detect it, it was crushed against his own as Viktor kissed him intensely and lovingly. 

Yuuri felt his fiancé’s tears on his face, warm hands on the sides of his head, holding him tenderly. And suddenly they were apart. And Viktor was staring down at Yuuri as if he were the greatest marvel in the Universe, the only thing in his entire world.

“I love you”, he said again. 

“I love you too.” 

Now the words were out, now they were no longer so desperately unspoken or neglected or forgotten, they felt like it was all they _could_ say. Entire vocabularies dejected in favour of those three words… because they were the only ones that mattered. In that moment, all there was, was Viktor, Yuuri and their love.   
  


* * *

  
Yuuri was being pulled toward the kitchen now, and he suddenly seemed to have regained a sense of smell, as gorgeous aromas surrounded him and made him take note of his hunger. 

Viktor once again had that wide, beaming smile on his face as he stood his fiancé in front of two perfectly-polished silver cloches, from which the beautiful aromas appeared to be emanating. Viktor raised an eyebrow before grabbing one and raising it, revealing an intricate-looking and exquisitely-smelling pasta dish. Yuuri could smell garlic and parsley and white wine, and saw shaved white truffles on top of perfectly-formed linguine. 

“When did you do this?!” was all Yuuri could think to say in that moment. 

“Oh, it was all organised by lunch. The chef will have not long left.” 

Yuuri smiled as he noted the cheeky look on Viktor’s face, all too revealing that the earlier phone call was _not_ , in fact, Chris. Well, Viktor Nikiforov was famous for the art of surprise, and his relationship was no different.  
He was now leaning to pull two champagne flutes down from the shelf, before reaching into the freezer and retrieving an already-filled ice bucket and just-chilled bottle of champagne, beads of condensation clinging to its side. He held them up with mocking showmanship, presenting them to Yuuri with excitement.  
He placed the bottle down and worked on removing the metal from the cork. He had thought of everything. And here was Yuuri, stood in the most romantic setting he could think of for any set of lovers on Valentine’s Day, with absolutely nothing to show for it. This was their _first_ Valentine’s Day, and he had done _nothing._  

“I’m so sorry”, he said.

Viktor’s brow was furrowed, twisting at the cork now. His eyes only briefly glanced up to Yuuri, preoccupied with the task. 

“For what?” 

“For forgetting. I haven’t gotten you anything, Viktor. I’m so sorry.” 

The cork popped, condensed champagne vapour swirling around the bottle’s neck. Viktor smiled at the triumph, then began to carefully pour into one of the glasses as he responded, looking more serious now. 

“Yuuri, you have nothing to apologise for. You have been working so hard recently… this was about _me_ doing something for _you_.” 

He held out the glass to Yuuri, who accepted with a smile, causing his partner to follow suit before filling his own glass.  
Viktor was right, of course. He was usually right. There was no point in Yuuri allowing his insecurities to cloud his mind when all this was right here, waiting for him to grasp hold of it. How could he have ever dreamed a year ago that he would be sat in Russia, in Viktor Nikiforov’s - no, _their_ \- flat, being romanced, being loved, being showered praise upon… engaged, and completely _in love.  
_ He took a sip from the glass and bubbles tickled his upper lip. It was expensive - not that Yuuri could tell from taste, but simply from _knowing_ that it would be because… well, it was _Viktor_ \- and also gave him a slight flashback to _that_ Grand Prix banquet. His cheeks still flushed whenever he thought about it, the way the most prestigious skaters in the world had saw him acting, and yet in another sense he wouldn’t have had it any other way. If he hadn’t gotten drunk, if he hadn’t had had that ridiculous dance-off, if he hadn’t _ground his hips_ into the most famous figure skater in the world… he wouldn’t be here right now. 

Viktor grabbed the plates and headed to the table behind Yuuri. 

“Come on, before it gets cold.” 

Yuuri turned and shuffled onto a seat, his champagne still in hand as his fiancé placed the plate down in front of him. Suddenly he was ravenous.   
  


* * *

  
The food was, of course, beautiful.  
The company even more so. 

Throughout dinner, Viktor would lean over and grasp Yuri’s hand as if unable to _not_ touch him. Their fingers entwined and brushed against each other as they ate with their other hands, and talked about a variety of topics.  
Yurio had come up more than once. He had recently been in a particularly foul mood, constantly on his phone, snapping more than usual. Yakov and the others had placed it down to teenage angst, but Yuuri and Viktor knew better. Viktor had pretended not to see the picture of Otabek as Yurio’s phone background in a rare unguarded moment. It seemed that now he had finally made a friend, he just wanted to speak to him and be with him all the time.  
Others at the rink teased him about it, questioning if he was texting him, asking when he was going to see him. But Yuuri and Viktor refrained. Viktor remembered being in love for the first time ( _or at least what he thought was love)_ and understood how difficult a skater’s life could be. Yurio would be 16 in a few weeks, and they thought, capable of making his own choices. Regardless, they knew he would anyway. Yuuri suggested doing something for his birthday. They agreed he wouldn’t want a party. They decided on a plane ticket to Almaty. 

Viktor cleared plates, insisting Yuuri remain seated when he rose to help him. He rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher, then grabbed the champagne bottle and returned to the table. Their hands were together once again. 

“I really love you, you know?” Yuuri questioned, still unable to comprehend that he had not spent every day of the past two months telling him that ( _he had felt it long before then, but that was when they became “official”)._  

Viktor tightened his grasp on Yuuri, leaning his head on his other hand with a soft smile. 

“I know”, he said.   
  


* * *

  
The champagne was gone. 

Yuuri was feeling happy. Everything was just so… _perfect_ right now. The world was right. And that wasn’t just 3 glasses of fizz talking… he genuinely felt the happiest he had been in his entire life.  
Viktor had risen again, heading to the fridge to retrieve what looked to be two decadent and creamy and maybe lemon-y? desserts, but before he could even close the door Yuuri had come up behind him, wrapping his arms around his fiancé’s taut waist, smiling into the nook of his shoulder. 

“Don’t you want dessert?” Viktor asked, and Yuuri could tell without even looking that he was cocking an eyebrow.

“Yes”, Yuuri whispered, and spun him around by the hips, pulling him into a hungry kiss. Viktor was obviously a little shocked, but leaned into it immediately, abandoning the second course on the side in favour of something much more delicious. His hands rested on Yuuri’s cheeks lovingly… but his partner was _not_ acting very loving right now. He was acting… _desperate._  
Yuuri’s hands were darting all over Viktor’s body, as if trying to touch every part of him all at once… his chest, his stomach, his sides, his shoulders… eventually settling on his back under his fine jumper, where they clawed painfully at Viktor’s skin, drawing him closer.  
Viktor gasped in pain at the drag of Yuri’s nails, but Yuuri ignored it, determined in his action. He loved him, he loved him, he loved him. He was his. 

Yuuri’s eyes were scrunched shut. He had Viktor pinned against the counter next to the fridge and was kissing him so hard that his glasses pressed into the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones painfully. He didn’t care. He just wanted to be closer. Even this wasn’t close enough. Viktor was his. He was Viktor’s. They were one. Why couldn’t he get close enough to him?  
He loved this. Viktor was taller, and when Yuuri grabbed him by the waist Viktor curved, the angles of his body slotting perfectly against Yuuri’s. Blood was rushing everywhere but Yuuri’s brain right now, and he didn’t think that he could hold back much longer. Yes, this was him _holding back_. As soon as he felt Viktor begin to harden against his hip, he reached down and allowed himself to grab his fiancé’s ass ( _his_ ** _perfect_** _ass)_ , pulling him forward in an attempt at more sensation. Viktor once again broke from Yuri’s lips to breathe, this time in pleasure rather than pain.  
That was enough for Yuuri. He kissed Viktor, down his jaw, his neck - his knees bending now - his collarbone, his chest, his stomach… 

Viktor clenched Yuuri’s shoulder and pushed him back. Yuuri tilted his head up to look and nearly came just from the sight. Viktor’s hardened length was tenting the trousers in front of him, his stomach exposed from the material of his jumper, bunched up from Yuri’s hasty hands, and Viktor’s face… heavy-lidded, mussed up hair, and actually _panting_ , his chest rising and falling heavily. 

“ _Bedroom._ ” Viktor whispered. 

Yuri rose with the speed of an arrow from a bow, and kissed Viktor again. This time Viktor’s hands did the wandering, down the crook between Yuri’s ass and thighs, and Yuuri took the hint, jumping up to wrap his legs around his fiancé’s waist. Viktor was strong. He held him tight, still kissing him, and carrying him to their bedroom. 

Viktor kicked the door closed behind them, and lowered Yuuri gently to the soft, icy-blue sheets of the bed. He pushed his hands up Yuri’s black Mizuno top to explore the hardened landscape of his chest, and suddenly the champagne betrayed Yuuri, his bladder suddenly feeling fit to burst. He cursed in Japanese under his breath, and Viktor whispered, still kissing him, “what’s wrong?”  
Yuuri reluctantly pushed him away, apologising profusely. He would _definitely_ regret it later if he didn’t relieve himself now. 

“Two minutes!” he promised as he half-ran for the bathroom. 

 

* * *

 

After a few minutes and the uncomfortable contortion that was trying to pee with a raging erection, Yuuri returned, a little bashful now.  
Raising his eyes as he walked in and closed the door behind him, he was unprepared.

There were rose petals scattered over the bed, candles lit around the room giving in a warm glow, and his fiancé sat patiently, waiting for him. Viktor couldn’t have done this is that short space of time; they must have already been here when Yuuri entered the room and he was so caught up in Viktor that he didn’t even notice.  
He couldn’t find words, so he didn’t try to. He just smiled at Viktor and walked over, leaning down to kiss him once more. 

This time there was no hunger, no desperation.  
In that moment, time had stood still. They had the rest of their lives… they had an infinity to spend together. And right now, Yuuri was determined to savour every single fraction of Viktor Nikiforov.  
They kissed… just _kissed_ , for a long time.  
Yuuri was trying to remember every minute detail. The way their noses bumped, the feel of Viktor’s thinner lips under his own, the shape of his teeth under his tongue, the warmth of Viktor’s cheek, his soft fringe brushing against his forehead. 

And then Viktor nipped playfully at Yuuri’s lower lip. Yuuri laughed softly, but pushed forward into him, causing them both to fall back on the bed. He crawled on top of his fiancé, the palms of his hands running over the ridges of muscle under Viktor’s plum jumper. Viktor clung to Yuuri’s back and started to kiss his neck. Yuuri sighed as Viktor licked the inch of skin on his neck that made Yuuri go weak at the knees.  
Yuri’s stomach fluttered as he seemed to regain consciousness of the fact that he was kissing Viktor. Sometimes he simply couldn’t believe this was his life. And not only was he kissing him, but he had moved his hips down onto him and could feel Viktor, hardened against him once more. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and his eyelashes fluttered as his stomach dropped, completely aroused by the realisation. And before he could stop himself, his hand had reached down and he was palming at Viktor through his trousers. 

“Mmm… Yuuri… please…” Viktor mumbled into his mouth. 

Yuuri understood, and he moved his hand away, focusing on unfastening his fly now. He fumbled and Viktor moved to do it instead. Yuuri sat up on his knees, straddling his lover, and pulled his black top off over his head. He then moved off of Viktor, standing by the bed to remove the rest of his clothes as his partner followed suit, bucking his hips as he lay down to shimmy the pants and trousers off.  
When both were naked, Yuuri crawled onto the bed next to Viktor and they lay on their sides, just staring at each other. Both of their eyes looked glassy in the candlelight. 

“I love you”, Yuuri said again, almost subconsciously, and he wondered how many more times those words would find their way out of his mouth tonight. 

“I love you too, my Yuuri.” 

Those were the last words Viktor said to Yuuri before he was suddenly on top of him, and kissing him, and touching him. He drew circles in Yuri’s skin with nimble fingers, he nibbled at Yuri’s dark nipples, placed tender kisses on the trail of hair that joined his groin and his navel. Every move he made was intoxicating, every touch electrifying. 

“ _Viktor…_ ” he moaned, wantonly, and then Viktor wrapped his fingers around his length and began to stroke. He kissed Yuuri as he hummed into his mouth. It felt amazing, but all Yuuri wanted was to feel connected to Viktor, to be one with him. Yuuri reached out his left arm, not interrupting Viktor from doing what he was, then opened the drawer and fumbled, looking for the transparent blue bottle. he placed it on the bed next to them, making it noticeable to Viktor and his intent clear.  
Viktor still didn’t speak, but understood, taking the bottle and pumping the clear liquid over his hand. He started to stroke Yuuri again, but only for a few languid movements of his hand, before running the very tip of his finger down Yuri’s testes, over his perineum, seeking his entrance. He found it easily of course, and Yuuri moaned at the faint brush against his muscles. His fiancé pressed a little, testing to see if this was what Yuuri wanted ( _although he really already knew_ ). Yuuri pushed down onto him in assent, so Viktor slid his finger in gently. 

Viktor took his time, slowly stretching Yuuri, allowing him to savour in the delicious drawn-out moment. Yuuri was writhing in pleasure, and impatience. His fiancé was so good at this, and short bursts of adrenalin coursed through his body every time Viktor brushed against his insides in just the right place. He so desperately wished to be taken, but making love to Viktor was a completely different experience to when they fucked. His partner liked to his time, ensuring every inch of his body was paid attention to, and slowly pulling him apart at the seams.  
Currently, Viktor was kissing at Yuuri’s hips tenderly as he touched, three fingers moving slickly in and out as Yuuri squirmed. He was outrageously hard, desperately wanting, and absolutely ready to be consumed by the five-time GPF medallist. 

“ _Please…_ ” was all he needed to signal to his fiancé, and Viktor slid up Yuuri’s body, pressing their lips together affectionately. Yuuri bucked his hips up, anguished by the removal of contact. His partner continued to kiss him, but adeptly moved his hand down and lined himself up with Yuuri. Their bodies slot together easily, two pieces of a puzzle who had taken time to understand each other and how they worked. Viktor knew that when Yuuri was like this he would not need to be slow or patient, and so bottomed out immediately, causing Yuuri to moan erotically.  
They moved, in complete synchronicity with each other, adjusting to their needs, chasing mutual pleasure. Yuri’s legs were hooked around Viktor’s inner elbows, and Viktor was deep, thrusting into Yuuri, whilst every so often pecking at whatever skin he could reach. He liked to kiss as they made love, and though it was not always possible to stretch to each other’s lips, Viktor seized opportunity by kissing wherever he _could_ reach.  
Yuuri tried to respond in kind with touch, but it was difficult to concentrate when so completely filled… so completely at one with his partner. His hands desperately reached out every so often, craving the contact of Viktor’s chest under his fingertips, or attempting to contort his arm to hold his hand… but his grasp always found its way back to the bedsheets as Viktor touched him… made love to him… exactly how he liked it. 

“ _Yuuri…_ I’m so close…” 

Viktor set a completely steady pace now, his hips snapping forward rapidly as his brow furrowed and beads of sweat trickled from beneath his silver fringe. He reached down and began to stroke Yuuri now as well, the intensity causing Yuuri’s stomach to knot. The combined sensations drew Yuuri out, and before he knew it he was chanting his lover’s name… at the same time, his fiancé’s breath hitched and he came with a grunt, pulsing into Yuuri as Yuuri himself pulsed out between them. 

After a few moments of allowing their breathing to settle and their bodies to still, Viktor swept Yuuri’s black sweat-damped hair from his forehead, and placed a gentle kiss there before pulling out and falling onto his chest. 

“I love you, Yuuri.” 

“I love you too, Viktor.” 

 

* * *

 

Viktor lay in the crook of Yuuri’s arm, his head resting on Yuuri’s naked chest. They had blown the candles out and turned on a lamp, which emitted a warm, low glow… the sheets now pulled up over them to prevent a chill. 

“That was my first Valentine’s Day”, Yuuri confessed. He had only ever been alone, and a day about _love_ was certainly not something that he had celebrated in his ever-single life. 

“How was it?” 

“I think you’re good for the next 10 years”, Yuuri laughed. Viktor huffed out a gentle giggle into his pecs, then kissed him, the few hairs Yuuri had on his chest tickling his nose. 

“The next one’s up to you, then.”


	2. White Day

Steam clouded his glasses and made it difficult to see. He would take them off but his hands were otherwise occupied, so he persevered, craning his neck round to seek coolness that might clear the haze.  
The steam evaporated, returning his vision, and he took the opportunity to put down his phone and concentrate on the whisk in his right hand, his face pulled further back now to stop it from happening again. He had pretty much memorised the recipe now anyway.  
He wasn't exactly a pro in the kitchen, but damnit if he wasn't going to try!

It was March 14th.   
Yuuri stood in his kitchen in St Petersburg, wearing an apron for the first time in his life, and whisking a pot of melted white chocolate and cream together gently.  
His fiancé was out today. A ploy by Yuuri actually, having convinced Yurio with - _well, more rubles than he cared to part with_ \- to drag Viktor out to the cinema. Viktor had been so excited, overjoyed that the youngster he cared so deeply about seemed to be showing some semblance of affection and wanted to spend time with him.  
Viktor's face had been unbearably cute as he explained all this to Yuuri, dimples forming at the sides of that heart-shaped smile as Yuuri tried to paint his face blank, as if completely oblivious to Yurio's new brotherly attitude.  
Luckily, Viktor seemed unaware of any Japanese Valentine's traditions. Yuuri was sure that if he had caught on he would have made a big show of it, and last month he would have come home to a thousand chocolates than a thousand red roses.

That wasn't to say, of course, that Viktor _hadn't_ made a big show of the day last month. Yuuri had forgotten about the day of romance completely, and it was dependent on this fact that Viktor had been able to do what he so utterly wanted: surprise him.  
But when Viktor left but an hour ago, he showed no acknowledgement of the date. March 14th obviously had no meaning to him, and now Yuuri was delighted - albeit a little stressed right now - that he would finally be able to do what Viktor usually liked to, and surprise his fiancé instead.  
He had a plan. He was determined. If only he could get it to go right.   
  
Yuuri had only made chocolates a few times in his life, and that was when he was much, much younger. A couple of those times were for his mother and sister, who accepted with glee the misshapen brown hearts and pretended they tasted lovely ( _he was sure they didn’t_ ).  
Another time was actually for Yuko. He had been about 14 when he decided to finally let her know about his crush on her, and spent all day trying to make the semi-sweet truffles look _just_ right, adding dried strawberries he knew she loved. But when he turned up at the rink that day, hiding the small pink mesh bag in his satchel, his confidence gave out at what he saw. There was Nishigori stood at the corner outside the rink with Yuko, a bright red blush across his face - _the likes of which Yuuri had never seen before_ \- hiding a red cellophane bag behind his back as he stammered out a confession. The little pink bag stayed in Yuuri's bag that day, and he pretended he hadn't seen them.

The mixture thickened, looking just about right, and Yuuri pulled it off the heat to allow it to cool a little. This time, there was no way he wouldn't be showing his love.

After he had formed the truffles (which were looking much nicer than expected), he rolled them in dried coconut flakes and placed them on a plate which he moved to a high shelf. He had somewhere else to be right now. He glanced up at the clock above the dining table to ensure, _yes_ , he was making good time.  
Yuuri pulled the apron off and patted down his hands, a little wet still from having just been washed. Makkachin was staring at him in "beg" mode: body sat stiff as a rod, eyes fixed on him, tongue hanging lazily from one side of his mouth as he panted little huffs of desire, his eyes darting to the shelf every so often. Yuuri knelt down in front of him and scratched behind his ears. "Sorry Makka; those are for Daddy! None for you!" Yuuri said with half a laugh. Makka lapped at his face with a little whine, almost pleadingly, and Yuuri ruffled the soft curls on his head as he stood.  
He slipped on his shoes and his jacket, then looked in his wallet to double check for a receipt. He'd need it to go and collect the item he'd ordered.  
And then, Yuuri left.

  
***  
  


Yuuri was back home in less than an hour. Time was running short now. He estimated Viktor would be gone for another hour or so, and he needed to put things together.

He pulled out the heart shaped box he had a bought and hidden last week, and lined the bottom with tissue paper. He delicately placed the box from the item he had collected that day on it, then covered it with a layer of cardboard which slotted into the shape of the box. He followed up with more tissue, then placed the truffles carefully inside, before gently replacing the lid.  
That done, he quickly measured out some rice, throwing it in the rice cooker carelessly, and pulled out a pan for the stove.

 

* * *

 

Today was wonderful!  
So much better than Viktor could ever have hoped!  
He didn't know why he had received the text from Yurio this morning (" _hey! Old man! I'm bored, take me out today!_ ") but he was glad he did. It was one of the first times Yurio had ever opened up to him, and the very first time he had actually suggested they spend any time together (other than the implication that Viktor should coach him last year).  
Maybe it was his way of thanking Viktor for his birthday present, he pondered. It had been the youngster's 16th birthday a fortnight ago, and after deliberation on Valentine's Day, Viktor and Yuuri had decided to buy him tickets to Kazakhstan for the beginning of April, just after the World's. He had been quiet, only a whispered "thanks" fell from his mouth, but they could tell his quietness was from shock and gratitude above anything else.  
Whatever the reason, Viktor was grateful. He himself had actually been an affable, slightly hyperactive young skater, but he saw so much of himself in Yurio, and since he had met him had fallen into the role of big brother. Viktor had had nobody but Yakov to lean on when he was 16 (who had played more of a fatherly role in Viktor's life), but he knew that at that age what Yurio really needed was solace; someone to turn to in any eventuality, and Viktor tried to provide it.   
A little too old to be merely a friend at 12 years his senior... but big brother he could definitely do.

Today, Yurio had been more talkative than usual, pumped up for his first senior World's competition ( _and maybe a little from his upcoming trip_ ). They had actually had a nice day, with fewer awkward moments than usual. Viktor couldn't wait to tell his fiancé all about it, and he smiled brightly as his key turned in the door.

"Yuuri! You'll never believe-"

He stopped short at the smell that invaded his nostrils.  
 _Katsudon_! Yuuri was making katsudon!  <3

He ran the short couple of metres to the kitchen and turned, his eyes blowing wide at the sight that greeted him.

There was his fiancé, an apron around his front, dishing up katsudon into bowls of rice with a warm smile. Under the apron he could see his favourite blue cashmere jumper and his good jeans. His hair was pushed back, Eros style, and he was swaying his hips gently to Mozart. On the table there was a vase with white peonies. Had Viktor actually mentioned to Yuuri they were his favourite? And where on _earth_ had he gotten them this time of year?!  
Viktor pulled out his phone as quick as a flash, firstly because he _NEEDED_ a photo of Yuuri exactly how he looked right now, and secondly to frantically look through his calendar.

"What have I forgotten?!" He half-yelled. He was devastated, _heartbroken_ , at the idea he could have forgotten any form of monumental occasion he should share with the love of his life. His brain worked overtime, raking through dates of anniversaries, firsts, birthdays...  
And then Yuuri's hands were on his shoulders.

"You haven't forgotten anything; put your phone away."

Viktor looked up at him, upset and dishevelled, and pocketed his phone.

"I just wanted to surprise you, that's all."

Viktor pulled him in, holding him close and tight. Tears formed against his will as his nose pressed into Yuuri's hair, slightly sticky from whatever was forming it, but still smelling unmistakably of him. He pressed a kiss into his crown, then pulled back.

"You made me katsudon?"

"I made you katsudon."

"I _love_ you."

It was signed out with a shake of the head; disbelief that his partner would go to this trouble just to surprise him with his favourite dish. It smelled amazing, Yuuri looked amazing, the flat looked amazing. Peonies and candles and Mozart and katsudon and... Yuuri.  _His_ Yuuri.  
His fiancé was ushering him to sit down now, before returning to the kitchen to remove his apron and retrieve the bowls. He had even dug out the expensive chopsticks and dishes Hiroko and Toshiyo had bought them to celebrate their son's move. Yuuri had told Viktor several times before that he could cook katsudon with his eyes closed, but this was the first time Viktor would taste Yuuri's version of the dish and not his mother's.  
They dug in quickly, eager to eat and talk and be with each other. Viktor took one bite and his face screwed up. As he opened his eyes, he could see Yuuri's face, panicked that he had done something wrong, that he didn't like it... When actually Viktor was attempting to savour every bite of flavour to its fullest extent. He swallowed quickly at seeing Yuuri's face in order to calm him.

"Oh my God, Yuuri! _Vkusno_! The best I've had!" Then, lower: "don't tell Ka-San!"

Yuuri laughed now, and Viktor's heart melted once again.

 

***

 

After dinner, Yuuri cleared the plates. Viktor was using his hand to brush small pieces of panko off the table and onto the floor - _bad habit_ \- before Yuuri was suddenly in front of him again. A white, heart-shaped box held out before him. Viktor took it as he looked up into Yuuri's gorgeous brown eyes, confused.  
Yuuri sat back down as Viktor looked at the box as if a foreign item he had never seen before, and leaned into his hand a little as he began to speak.

"I lied a little. There is an occasion today. It's called White Day."

Viktor turned his head sharply as he placed the box in front of him on the table, listening intently despite racking his brain. Nope, he definitely hadn't heard of this.

"What's White Day?"

"In Japan, we kind of have two Valentine's Days. The first is on February 14th, which is usually when women give gifts to men and other loved ones or friends. There are two different types of chocolates that are usually given, and often it's done on this day alongside a love confession. But then on March 14th there is _White_ Day, where men give women chocolates and gifts back to reciprocate."

Viktor looked down at the White box, then at the White peonies next to them.

"To be honest, I don't actually know what happens in _this_ situation..."

Yuuri was gesturing with his hands, his fingers pointing between he and Viktor... " _This situation_ " evidently being two men in a romantic relationship.

"... But you did so much for me on Valentine's Day and I completely forgot, so i thought this would be a good way to show you that I feel the same, and surprise you instead."

Yuuri's eyes drifted down to the box as if to suggest he should open it, and so Viktor did.  
There were gorgeous white round balls that looked to be coated in coconut laying atop soft layers of golden tissue paper. The presentation, the chocolates, everything looked so perfect that Viktor didn't want to touch. He wanted to put the lid back on and store them away forever, only pulling it out and opening it every so often to remind him of this night and Yuuri's love. He probably would have done too, if the rational side of his mind didn't remind him that _food spoils_ and they probably didn't want to be calling exterminators in regarding the weird mouldy box under their bed in a month.  
So he pulled one out and bit into it. It was sweet, and rich, and creamy and gorgeous. He couldn’t speak, and so let his face do they talking. Judging from his fiance's beaming smile, he got the message. When he was done with one and looked like he was about to speak, Yuuri gestured to the box again. "It's double-layered."  
Viktor dipped a long finger down the inner side of the box, and found a gap in a cardboard layer, lifting his head to ask Yuuri "are you trying to turn me into a little piggy?" as he lifted the layer. But when he looked down under the layer in his hands, there were no more chocolates. Just a small, black, velvet box.

His brows furrowed and he placed the chocolates down to the side.  
He lifted the small black box, then looked to Yuuri as if asking for permission, who only smiled.  
Viktor opened it, and inside sat… his ring.

_Oh!_

Viktor and Yuuri had been without their rings for about a week now. Yuuri had insisted he take them to be resized, and despite victor’s protestations that his was fine, his partner had convinced him that he wanted it to be perfect. Viktor beamed. What an inventive way of returning it, he thought. He took the ring off and slid it onto his finger. It was a little more snug, and now he felt it, Viktor was appreciative of the resizing. A tighter fit meant less chance of losing this. One of the most important things in his life, besides Yuuri himself.  
He splayed his fingers as he reached his arm out to admire his hand. It had only been a week, and he missed his ring more than he could have imagined. “It’s _perfect_ , Yuuri. _Spasibo_!”  
Yuuri raised from his seat and came around to Viktor, crouching next to him. He took his hand and slid the ring off from his finger, placing it instead into his palm.

“Look closer”.

Viktor’s brow once again furrowed, and he picked up the ring with delicate fingers, turning it over in his hand. Then something caught his eye. On the inside there was an engraving. He pulled it closer, allowing his vision to adjust so he could read it.

On the inside of the ring, in a small elegant font, was written " _Stammi Vicino_ ".

He turned to look at Yuuri, but had to shift his gaze lower, as Yuuri was now on one knee next to him. Viktor clasped his free hand over his mouth as tears spilled over his lower lids.

"I didn't ever truly get the chance to tell you what that ring really meant to me, Vicchan. I think we both _knew_ _really_ , but I never actually got to formally say it. So here it is now: Viktor Nikiforov, will you marry me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm always apologising, but once again, I'm sorry for the delay.  
> Sorry for the lack of smut, I just needed to write something cheesy.
> 
> I'm sure you're all aware of this anyway, but:
> 
> Vkusno - tasty  
> ka-san - mum  
> spasibo - thank you  
> stammi vicino - stay close/stay close to me

**Author's Note:**

> Almaty is in Kazakhstan btw for anyone who didn't know. I'll leave you to your deductions.


End file.
